


Grey Hairs, Reason #12

by Bastet5



Series: The Wild Hunt [3]
Category: FBI: Most Wanted (TV 2020)
Genre: BadThingsHappenBingo: Bloodstained Clothes + Doesn’t Realize They’ve Been Injured, Blood and Injury, Claustrophobia, FBI, Gen, Hospitals, Not all of which are Kateri's fault, Raids, Why Clinton Has Grey Hair ... One Reason ... Of Many
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet5/pseuds/Bastet5
Summary: October 2015Adrenaline was a wonderful thing in the heat of the moment, in the heat of a raid. Energy and focus when you needed it most.Adrenaline was also a dangerous thing, as Kateri finds out when she gets shot in the midst of a raid ... but does not know she's been shot.In other words, one of many reasons why Clinton has grey hairs.
Relationships: Clinton Skye & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Hunt [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678864
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	Grey Hairs, Reason #12

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I'm not a doctor, the child of a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. I strive for medical accuracy in these fics. Whether I get to that point ... *shrugs.*
> 
> In other news, I've finally hit the 300,000 word mark in this series!!

Of all types of buildings that she had ever had to clear during her career with the FBI, Kateri despised storage facilities the most. Narrow passageways. Bad sight-lines. Much, much, much too much metal, which could cause ricochets and create echoes that made it hard to do anything quietly. _Or pinpoint where the perps are making noises from_. Storage facilities were, in her mind, a recipe for either problems, if she felt lucky, or a potential disaster, if she were not.

The case that sealed that hatred of storage facilities in her mind took place in October of 2015 about eight months after Kateri had transferred from Organized Crime to Jess LaCroix’s Fugitive Response Team. The move had required a steep learning curve and a lot of adjustments to the way Kateri thought, the way she worked both alone and with others, and the way she interacted with her teammates, but it had been one of the best decisions she had ever made in her life.

_It got me a real team, who actually act like a team should, not like we hate each other’s guts by and large._

_A real boss and XO who know what they’re doing._

_And a real partner, who is a decent human being and one that doesn’t make me want to pull my hair out talking to, who watches my back, helps me out off-shift, and even doesn’t dump his paperwork on me ‘cause I’ve got the least seniority on the team._

_Thankssssss, Thomas, by the way._

_Clinton even offers to help me with my share of the paperwork if he finishes his first._ And considering Kateri had no fondness for paperwork, those offers meant a lot.

The October case began in Rochester, New York, near Lake Ontario and ended in Ithaca as the team hunted down a man wanted for double homicide— _dead cop and dead civilian … makes for an all-around terrible day_ —armed robbery, and grand theft auto among a few others things. _Why does it seem someone does one or tries to do ‘em all?_ The search for him culminated in a raid on a storage facility where the fugitive, Stevie Jones, was hiding out. The storage facility to make matters more complicated was an indoor one, not an outdoor one, which meant quarters were even more cramped with poor sightlines and less room to move and to work and to fight and to duck. _Last two of which are kinda especially important, ‘specially the last if shooting starts._ The only upside was that the facility was not so small and cramped as to send Kateri into a claustrophobia-induced panic attack. _Which would just make a troublesome mission even worse_.

The team arrived at the storage facility around 7pm. The facility was a multi-level, multi-building monstrosity, and the video footage that placed what’s-his-name at the scene— _oh, what was his name. Oh, for heaven’s sake, brain … Not enough sleep and not enough coffee. Oh, yea, Stevie something_ _… Stevie, Stevie … Stevie Jones. Stevie Jones_ —had shown him entering a different building than the one which contained his own unit. _Could be looping around back to his by the long route for all we know. Can’t assume, though. Gotta search the whole kit and kaboodle. Ohhhh, joy_. Lucky them.

Jess divided the team among the three buildings, two to each building, with SWAT in support. _Time to get to work_. Clearing a building with a new partner was slowly becoming second nature for Kateri. _Courtesy of multiple cases and a whole lot of off-duty practice._ Clinton, she was quite sure, had the patience and the temperament of a saint. He never minded running practice drills with her as they got used to working with each other, and thanks to him, _I no longer run the high risk of getting myself killed or lost in the woods when I can’t see something big and man-made or retrace my own footsteps_. He took out of his own personal time, time he could have spent with his own family, to help her, and he didn’t know how much that meant to her.

Clinton and Kateri had ended up with the building in which Jones’ actual unit was. _Who the hell knows if he’s actually here or not_. Clearing the first floor and checking each unit to see whether it was locked or not took time but went smoothly. They met no resistance and saw no sign of Jones’ presence.

That all changed when they came off the stairs on the second floor up one hall and around a corner from where Jones’ unit was located.

Almost immediately, as soon as they appeared in the main hallway on which the storage units were located, they came under fire.

Heavy fire.

 _Bloody, bloody h**l_.

Kateri instinctively ducked for cover as the first shots rang out, and all the agents scattered as best they could in the confined space, as more bullets rang out, echoing noisily and zinging through the air. Already Kateri could hear the ricochets amidst the lead being sprayed. _Pitch gives it away_.[1] She had ended up on the right side of the doorway, almost back where she had begun coming off the stairway.

_Bloody h**l._

_What is that moron doing? Spraying lead to see what hits? Likely as to hit himself with a ricochet as hit any of us!_

_Bloody h**l, and God have mercy on us all!_

Yelling commands at Jones, telling him to drop his weapon, come out with his hands up, etc., etc., was attempted but not of much use.

 _Can barely hear myself think over all the gunfire_.

Jones was still shooting, and Clinton, Kateri, and the SWAT agents with them were trying to return fire without getting hit by the spraying lead or by the ricochets ricocheting around the corridor.

 _Wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t hear us yelling. Gotta try anyway_.

A hand suddenly tapped her shoulder, and Kateri turned her head. A SWAT officer had come forward and was crouched just behind her. “Got men coming up other stairwell,” he proceeded to holler in her ear, the only way they could communicate. _I’m going to be deaf before I’m 30._ Everyone flinched a second later when a stray shot shattered one of the windows located on the outside wall perpendicular to the hallway. “They’ll cut him off if he rabbits.”

_Can’t even hear comms right now, and the thing’s in my bloody ear._

_At least blowing out the window seemed to help a little_.

Kateri nodded and glanced across to the opposite side of the doorway where Clinton was crouched. She made a motion, and once she saw she had caught his eye, Kateri made the appropriate motions to hopefully pass the message of what the SWAT officer had just told across to her partner. _Maybe I should try charades sometimes. Might be good at it with all this practice_.

Clinton nodded, before ducking out and firing another shot down the hall.

_Bloody h**l, how much ammo does Jones have down there?_

Once her partner was clear, Kateri waited for what she hoped was a clear moment, trying to listen for any clue of what Jones was doing in the gaps between the gunfire, and then ducked out and fired a shot at Jones’ position.

_He prepared for a siege or something?_

Jones and the agents traded fire for several more minutes, bullets echoing through and zinging across the confined corridors, before … suddenly … all went quiet.

Jones had stopped shooting.

_Is he dead?_

_Reloading?_

_Out of bullets? After this long, I’m not sure whether I’d say probably or h**l no._

Kateri sent a puzzled, concerned lack toward her partner. Clinton shrugged. He apparently had no more clue than she did what had just happened.

“FBI,” Kateri shouted down the hallway, “Lay down your weapons, and come out with your hands up.”

Nothing happened.

Dead silence had replaced the explosion of gunfire.

Past the ringing in her ears, Kateri could even her the sound of her own breathing now.

_What the h**l just happened?_

One of the SWAT officers beside her risked a peak into the corridor. “I see a blood pool on the floor. Can’t see a body.”

Ballistic shields were brought up, and the agents moved carefully and cautiously down the corridor, Kateri retaking her position at her partner’s side. Just inside the open, sliding door of his storage unit, Stevie Jones lay dead in a still spreading pool of blood, eyes wide open and starring in death. He had been hit at least three times, a victim of some combination of _our fire and ricochets from his own fire, considering the different sized wounds, I’m guessing_. Which had been the death wound, _well, corner’ll have to figure that out_.

Kateri was just glad no one else had been hurt with all the lead being sprayed and ricocheting around and around. What had been somewhat scratched but intact walls that showed their age were now pockmarked with holes and scars testifying to the sheer number of bullets fired.

 _Bloody, bloody h**l_.

She crossed herself quickly.

 _Wellllll, this was interesting_.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, the scene had been handed over to other FBI agents for processing, and the right people were on their way to collect Jones’ body. The team returned back downstairs and headed outside to the SUVs. Kenny was discussing something with Hana about storage units; from what Kateri could hear, it sounded like there were some movie references in the discussion … somewhere … somehow. (Whatever it was, it went right over Kateri’s head.) Barnes and Jess were talking about something officially and paperworky-sounding. _Yet another reason to not be the boss or the XO. Not my problem. Just have to do my AAR … later_.

Kateri herself was going to be glad to get back to the bus for at least two reasons. First, her right hip was starting to protest its hard collision with the wall during those first few chaotic seconds when she and the others had first come under fire and had ducked … _dived might be a better way to describe it …_ for cover. _I shall be glad to take advantage of the Tylenol bottle. I’m too young to be limping around with aches and pains_. Second, dinner had been rudely interrupted by the info on Jones’ location, and food had been unceremoniously shoved into the fridge for later, and Kateri was now starting to feel a little shaky. _I’ll be glad to finish my sandwich_. Mealtimes with the team, aside from breakfast ( _most of the time_ ) were prone to occurring at unpredictable times and were too frequently interrupted, _because crime waits for no man or meal_.

At the car, Kateri opened the door on her side and shrugged off her leather jacket. _Open door serves as a good hanging rack for a moment_. With slightly shaky hands— _definitely need the rest of dinner_ —she undid the Velcro fastening her bullet-proof vest closed and pulled it over her head. As she did so, she felt a slight twinge in her left side but paid it little mind, figuring she’d just banged it also or pulled something in the craziness of earlier.

Carrying her vest over one arm, Kateri turned and stepped back toward the trunk to deposit it with the other gear stowed in the back.

Suddenly, Kenny began swearing a blue streak, an unbroken string of colorful and creative profanity, some of which even Kateri had never heard before. _And I’ve spent enough time on the street to hear a whole bloody lot_.

Kenny was staring straight at her.

For a moment Kateri wondered if she should feel offended, _because why in all the bloody blue blazes is he looking at me and swearing?_

A second later it hit her.

_He’s not looking at me._

_He’s starring at my side_.

Kateri looked down.

_Oh, bloody h**l_.

A cold knot settled in her stomach.

_Bloody h**l_.

_Bloody, bloody h**l_.

_I’ve been shot_.

For a second, she could hardly believe it.

The former undercover agent had been wearing a grey turtleneck and a grey fleece vest underneath her leather jacket and bullet proof vest. Low on her left side, what had been pure grey fleece had now turned a rusty color, stained heavily with what had to be blood. The stain was roughly centered around the base of her rib-cage near the hollow of her hip where her Kevlar didn’t provide protection.

_I’ve been shot!_

“Oh, bloody h**l,” Kateri said automatically, the profanity running through her mind slipping unbidden from her lips. Sheet astonishment swept across her features, as she looked back up and met Kenny’s horrified gaze.

_It doesn’t hurt._

_I didn’t feel anything._

_Until the twinge …_

_Sometimes I hate adrenaline_.

That realization meant that the symptoms that Kateri had chalked up to low blood sugar were more likely symptoms of hypovolemic shock. _Oh, bloody h**l. I’ve been shot. … You said that already, moron_. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she threw out a hand to grasp the edge of the car to catch herself and prevent a fall. Kateri had medical training, but a gunshot wound and shock had never occurred to her as the cause for those symptoms because she hadn’t known that she had been shot in the first place.

 _Never felt it_.

_I’m never going to live this down._

But now she was starting to feel it … a lot.

 _Bloody h**l, that hurts_.

Pressing one hand instinctively to her side to put pressure on the wound, Kateri leaned heavily against the car. Not only did her side flare up in piercing agony at the touch, but she could also feel soggy cloth depress beneath her hand. _Bloody h**l, I think I’m in a pickle_. Another thought, tinged with sarcasm. _Potentially?_ Depending on when exactly she had been hit, _I’ve been bleeding for at least twenty minutes. Maybe more. Bloody h**l_.

Less than ten seconds had passed since Kenny had first started swearing.

But time seemed to have slowed to a crawl for a moment.

_Like the time I fell off that ladder as a kid … the time that was actually an accident_.

It seemed much longer.

Kateri started to sway again, even leaning on the car, and Kenny caught her bodily before she could fall, gently easing her down to the pavement as he hollered for the others and a medic. (Jess, Barnes, and Hana had been off at the other car, and where her own partner was, Kateri didn’t know. He had a way of disappearing without warning he was so quiet and stealthy and ninja-like.) One of Kenny’s big paws replaced Kateri’s over the wound, and he was pressing a whole lot harder than she had been.

 _Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow_.

Now that adrenaline was wearing off and she actually knew she was injured, Kateri wasn’t feeling so good.

_Shock, moron!_

_You’ve lost a lotta blood._

_You’re going into shock!_

The SWAT medic was the first to arrive, because when there were injured, medics seemed to be nigh on superhuman, and Kateri could have sworn that the medic had been on the opposite side of the parking lot a minute before.

The next few minutes were a blur of pain, as the wound on her side was exposed and QuikClot was layered over it— _should I be glad I can’t see it?_ ; questions from the medic to Kenny and her teammates to Kenny, all variations of what the h**l happened and how long ago and how long’s she been bleeding for— _too bloody long_.

“How the h**l should I know?” The stress of the situation was leaking into Kenny’s tone. He was somewhat temperamental at the best of times, and stress never helped. “I wasn’t with her until two minutes ago. Didn’t see anything until she took off her vest.”

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain had set in, and Kateri was starting to notice the slight confusion and fuzziness of thoughts that she associated with shock setting in. Even a flesh wound from a bullet left to bleed unrestricted for twenty minutes would cause non-trivial blood loss.

_Don’t think my vest would have kept pressure on it … would it?_

_Prob’ly too low._

_How much blood loss for Class 1 vs. Class 2 shock?_

_Can’t remember._

_Should know that._

_When did it get cold?_ Whether the cold she was feeling was a symptom of shock or a result of lying on cold pavement without her coat on a crisp fall evening … _or both_ , Kateri couldn’t say. With her coat on and while moving about, she hadn’t felt cold.

Clinton’s voice was evident in the background but seemed rather distant.

 _I think I really screwed up_.

 _I’m never going to live this down_.

With a loud whaling of sirens that pierced through the quiet of the evening, an ambulance arrived and disgorged two paramedics. After another flurry of quick treatment, Kateri was transferred from the cold, hard ground to the padded material of the stretcher and then loaded into the ambulance, Clinton climbing in behind the paramedic who wasn’t driving.

 _Think he woulda come anyway even if boss hadn’t told him to go with me_.

The loud whaling of the sirens was somewhat muted within the depths of the ambulance, and while Kateri was glad for the noise reduction, she would have preferred the noise over the small, enclosed, and horrifically crowded interior of the ambulance. Within a minute of leaving the storage facility, the familiar thoughts and sensations that plagued the claustrophobic agent whenever she found herself caught or otherwise present within such a small space began to impinge on the corners of her conscious mind. Kateri’s heart-rate leapt up, and her breathing quickened.

Were the walls closing in?

_No, the walls are not moving._

_This is an ambulance. You’re hurt. People are trying to help you._

_You’re not trapped in that box or in a room._

Were the walls closing in?

_No, walls aren’t moving._

_They’re fixed. Isn’t a trap._

_You’re safe. Clinton’s here. He’ll watch your back_.

Even as that thought crossed her mind, there was the slightest of pinches in the crook of her left arm, and then the touch of a familiar hand settled on her right shoulder.

“Easy, Kateri. You’re okay,” Clinton’s voice was soothing and calm. All of her new teammates knew about her claustrophobia by now. To the paramedic, he added, “She’s claustrophobic."

_The walls aren’t moving._

_The walls aren’t moving._

_You know this_.

Telling herself that she knew that the walls weren’t moving didn’t make her claustrophobic brain think differently, though.

 _You’re safe_.

Clinton was siting straight behind Kateri’s head, and from her position on the stretcher, it was hard for her to actually see him, but his hand stayed fixed on her shoulder for the rest of the trip to the hospital. Though they had only been partners for a little over six months, Clinton had already proved himself to be light years better as a partner than Thomas had ever been … _not that that’s hard_ … and Kateri trusted him, knew she was safe with him, and when he was calm, Kateri was learning to draw strength and calmness from his nearly unflappable presence.

* * *

At the hospital the two partners were separated, and Kateri was whisked away to an ER bay with doctors and nurses—a whole crush of people—and a whole lot of various pieces of equipment. The next little while was a blur of movement—of others, not Kateri—questions, lights, and sensations (not all pleasant).

Despite what the massive bloodstain on Kateri’s fleece jacket had indicated, a consequence of the unchecked bleeding, the bullet wound was actually comparatively minor … _well, not graze kind of minor, but minor compared to what the bloodstain seemed to make everyone think_. _‘m not about to kick the bucket. No gaping wounds, thank God._ The bullet, the doctors told her as they worked, had carved its way through her side between the base of her ribcage and the hollow of her hip, right below the area covered by her bullet-proof flesh. It was a deep flash wound that would almost certainly scar … _what’s one more_ … but it was only a flesh wound. _I got lucky_. Nothing was broken. Nothing internal was damaged. _Definitely lighting a candle for Saint Michael!_

The amount of blood loss, while enough to make her weaker for a little while … _like after a bad reaction a blood donation_ … was not as severe either as it could have been. _Only Class 1 shock, according to the docs. Gettin’ uncomfort’bly close to 2_. Kateri would not need a blood transfusion or need to be kept overnight in the hospital. Once they gave her fluids and patched her up, she could go home.

 _Once I get some fresh clothes. Between blood and treatment, wouldn’t be caught dead out in these_.

_Anybody’d see me’d think I need to come right back to the hospital._

A local anesthetic dulled the pain in her side as the doctors stitched the deep line the bullet had carved through her side, and the IV in Kateri’s left arm provided her with the needed fluids.

Once the stitching was finished, Kateri was left alone except for a nurse … doing something, and Kateri could hear the voice of one of the doctors outside the curtain and, more noticeable, the voices of her teammates. _Give ‘em an update so they don’t worry._ With the fluids helping to beat back the shock, Kateri’s head was starting to feel a little clearer, and her thoughts not quite so slow. _Chalk this up as one of the most embarrassing incidents of my career._

_Bloody h**l, even with adrenaline, how’d I not notice for that long?_

_And collapsing like a ditz?_

_Bloody h**l_.

Kateri felt enough like the weak-link suffering from her claustrophobia that made small spaces, occasionally even a car or a plane something worthy of having a panic attack over. _Yes, yes, I know … after what happened … most anyone probably’d be claustrophobic after getting trapped … intentionally … in a chest for hours_. No matter how much she told herself, there was still part of Kateri that railed against being seen when she was weak. After some incidents in her earlier years there were still too many ingrained instincts that hollered that being seen as weak was dangerous … no matter who did the seeing.

* * *

The doctors gave Kateri another bag of fluids after the first one, but within a couple of hours of arriving at the hospital, she was allowed to leave. (Exactly how much time had passed Kateri wasn’t sure because she’d had neglected to put on her watch at some point earlier that day, _and yet again how did I not notice this before?_ ) One of her teammates had brought her go-bag with her spare change of clothes, and a kindly nurse with a slightly too perky demeanor for how Kateri was feeling (tired, achy, and a little dizzy … _I’ve given blood before. That’s kinda what this feels like … just worse_ ) helped her change.

To Kateri’s complete and utter disgust, the nurse insisted that she use the wheelchair to get from the ER bay to the sliding doors between the waiting room and the parking lot. _I can SEE one from the other_. Her teammates were surprisingly absent, but once they got just outside, Clinton was there, leaning against the passenger door of the SUV. _Bloody h**l, am I ready to get out of here. Ready to go home and sleep in my own bed._ He seemed tense—she felt a fleeting moment of concern that he was upset with her—but he gave a small smile of greeting as Kateri appeared.

With the nurse watching from the doorway, Clinton switched from English into Mohawk as he gave Kateri a hand to clamber to into the taller SUV … _without jolting or pulling anything more than absolutely necessary_. Kateri’s once rusty Mohawk … _not exactly many speakers down here_ … had improved considerably over the last six or so months since she had joined the team, though she and Clinton usually only spoke in Mohawk … _in front of the others, at least_. … when they wanted to have private conversations. _Others aren’t here, though, but the nurse is_.

“I didn’t think you would want an audience so the others are on their way home. They’ll check on you tomorrow,” Clinton spoke. Once she was in her seat, he closed her door and headed around to the driver’s side, leaving Kateri a few seconds to mull over his word.

 _He’s known me six-ish months, and in that one decision, you’ve shown about as much consideration as Thomas ever did in years_.

(If Kateri thought about it more critically, she might have concluded she was being somewhat harsh on her old partner, however much she disliked him with every fiber of her being, but she was tired and achy and not exactly feeling charitable.)

The dark secrets of her past … _pre-Organized Crime ..._ Kateri had never spoken of them to any of her teammates, past or present, and for the moment had no intention of ever doing, but still some elements of the defensiveness and cautiousness those incidents had bred in her had slipped out over time, though _the others probably chalk it up to a crazy career upstairs with an awful team_. Even so, this wasn’t the first time that she had noticed her new partner picking up on some of that internalized defensiveness and unobtrusively stepping in to draw attention off of her and watch her six.

“Thanks,” Kateri replied, resisting the urge to shiver. _What more can I say?_ A fall chill had settled over the region, and while she had been warm enough beneath her fleece jacket and leather coat, the former had bitten the dust in more ways than one— _blood stains that big aren’t comin’ out_ —and Kateri didn’t know what had happened to the latter, and she had no spares for either.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little better. My side aches, but they gave me meds so it’s not too bad,” Kateri replied, letting her head sink back against the head rest and her eyes slip closed. Tiredness was setting in fast, and _not surprising considering what the clock says. Thought I hadn’t spent quite that much time at the hospital, but considering that and … shock, you’re weak … er._ “Mainly just feels like giving too much blood. Lot too much.”

“Not surprised,” her partner glanced over at her for a moment and then back at the road. _He’s bothered about something. Bothered with me? Bloody h**l, I hope not_. “It’s a long drive home. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Long drive was something of an understatement. It was a four-hour drive from Ithaca back to the city, which meant that the team would get back to HQ about midnight, _and then we’ve got to get home_ , which for Clinton and Jess, especially, was more of a hike.

“Sure you won’t need help?” Kateri asked.

The look Clinton sent back at her was an interesting combination of amusement and exasperation, “You’re not exactly up to driving, Kateri.”

“I didn’t say anything about me driving,” Kateri replied dryly, a hint of humor creeping into her tired voice, “Keeping you awake while you drive is another matter.”

 _You hardly let me drive anyway_.

“I’m fine. Just go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get back.”

With a word of thanks, Kateri shifted around until she was the most comfortable she could be in a seat that was not exactly made for sleeping … _especially a couple hours after a slug carved a line through my side_ … tucked her arms protectively around her abdomen and side and let her eyes slip closed.

Her mind refused to quiet for a time though, and she ran back through the events of the evenings and back over her partner’s words since the hospital, trying to figure out what was bothering him exactly. Finally, a likely possibility hit her. _No one knew I was hurt until a few seconds before I did a swan dive_.

“Clinton?”

Her partner gave the slightest of starts at the sound of her voice. _Wonder if he thought I went to sleep_. “Hmm?”

“I didn’t know, not until Kenny started swearing and I saw the blood on my jacket. I didn’t know. Honest.”

The biggest obstacles that Kateri had had to overcome over the last six months was her independent streak and her utter unfamiliarity with working with a competent team. Heading off on her own to track down a lead or talk to contact without remembering to tell someone … _now when I forget, it’s unintentional_ … now got her lectures from the boss. _Things are different when your team knows what it’s doing_.

After already getting over most of those difficulties, _mostly trained myself out of that, don’t want them to think I was hiding an injury or something._

_Not telling them about every little thing is one thing._

_Not telling them about a scrape … maybe. Hiding a bullet wound is utter stupidity_.

Clinton nodded, giving her a half-smile. “Just go to sleep. It’s okay,” his voice was soft, but Kateri still got a hint that he was bothered … _hopefully not at me_.

Kateri finally settled back down and let her eyes slip closed, and quickly she fell asleep. At some point later in the trip, not near the city yet … _too dark_ , she woke again briefly. The sense of cold that had plagued her earlier was gone, and it took only a moment to realize, even in her half-asleep state, that a warm, heavy coat had been draped over her. Kateri opened her eyes half-way and glanced over at her partner, _who … no coat_. _When ‘at happ’n?_ (Considering that Clinton had been wearing his coat at the hospital, he would have had to stop the car somewhat past once Kateri dozed off to get his coat off to give to her.) With a fond thought for her partner’s kindness, Kateri let her eyes slip close again and fell back asleep.

* * *

[1] <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2mHMkZlFxA>


End file.
